


Let us sink

by Peoplesing



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Anal Sex, Bath Sex, Canon Era, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 12:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peoplesing/pseuds/Peoplesing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baths were rare in the 19th century. And it would be a shame to waste water...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let us sink

**Author's Note:**

> So a little PWP. It was fun to write. 
> 
> This was unbetated, so if you spot any mistakes.
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it

Most of Enjolras's house felt empty. The elegant two floor house stood proudly not far from the church of Saint-Séverin, in the dawning light of Paris. The silence was almost absolute, save for the little thumping sounds of branches against one of the window of the Grand Salon.

In one of the upstairs room, a marble bathtub was standing, pristine white. Baths were rare in the 19th century but Joly insisted that hygiene was important for health. And the student wasn't the kind of moron to put leeches on patients and drain them of their blood. And the lukewarm water felt damn good and calming after a day of protest. 

Enjolras may have been rich, but he wasn't spendthrift, but they were 2 things he kept as a luxury: his bookshelf, always well furnished of the latest books of modern philosophy and the marble recipient, that he barley used. 

It was the drunk's idea to take a bath that morning. He had been the one to bring back the water with an old bucket. He had been the one to place the burning coal underneath the bath to keep it warm. He even went to a shop to buy some lavender scented soap (and no it wasn't too girly).

The sound of liquid moving and dripping was soothing, echoing slightly through the rooms, along with the crystalline laugh of a young man, a cynic addicted to the bottle that never laughed enough. And right now, he was positively gleeful, after having dragged their reluctant leader for an hour or 2 of relaxation.

The 2 men were enjoying the bath, barley fitting into the tub, their skin sliding and glistening against one another. One had ivory skin and dark hair. He was washing the other one's blond hair, his skin equally fair.

Enjolras and Grantaire.

The modern Orestes and Pylades. 

Enjolras was sitting half immersed in the tub, half leaning against the cynic's chest. The hands in his hair felt divine, slowly undoing the knots from the top of his head and neck. The fingers kept twirling gently in his curls, making him purr in the same way a cat would.

He wondered for an instant for how long they had been there, doing nothing in peculiar. 

Enjolras rose his head up, resting comfortably on Grantaire's shoulder and the cynic took the opportunity to kiss him, hand on his jaw. The angle was a little odd but they couldn't care less. And their lips met again and again, unhurriedly, softly and sweetly. 

His stubble felt rough against the pristine skin of the blond's jaw, making him gasp and grip at his forearm, almost convulsively. The taste... He still couldn't get used to the taste of anise from the absinthe he always drank, but this was Grantaire.

Grantaire probed his tongue into his mouth, taking control (Enjolras gave it to him gladly, enjoying letting go) and from there, it was a clash of tongues and teeth and mouths, of heat and wet...

The rush made them feel light-headed.

And Enjolras felt so good...

His hands were the only thing keeping them up, gripping strongly at the edges of the bathtub. The elegant fingers of the blond were clenched against the marble, making his arms protest painfully. So the drunk hugged him from behind, taking in some of the weight for himself, making the revolutionary sighed in delight. 

“I love you” the drunk murmured, his voice rasping at the curve of his ear. He then bit gently at the lobe, his teeth barley apart.

“I love you” he whispered at his collarbone, his tongue lapping at it, teasingly. 

“I love you” he taunted as his hand slided against his front, sneaking lower, and reaching without hesitation to take a hold of Enjolras's cock.

The blond moaned loudly, his head leaning shamelessly against Grantaire, feeling electrified by the contact. It felt so good to have someone take a hold of him. 

He let himself be worshiped the man he loved, his senses lulled by the soothing water and the proximity of their hot bodies. He could feel Grantaire's hard on, digging in the curve of his ass. He wanted that cock in it. Right. Now.

The drunk started peppering the skin of his back with a series of light kisses, the movement of his hand on the shaft never failing, a firm yet not too firm pressure that was making him see stars.

“I love you too” he sighed back, sinking slowly into the tub, against his lover “and one day, when we'll succeed, the republic will be able to -oh!”

Grantaire did that thing with his hand that Enjolras loved so much. The blond flattered, his cheeks red, as the cynic hushed him slightly: “ Ssshhhh. We said no politics today. Just enjoy.”

Enjolras tried to protest, but instead let out a strangled moan, as Grantaire did it again, and again...

In response, Enjolras's hips began bucking without restraint, meeting the hardness on he longed for. And Grantaire rutted back against him.

He always fancied to see his Apollo come undone. He loved the thought that only he could do that, that he was the only one that ever could, ever will, despite their differences, despite his worthlessness.

It was a God falling to become human.

And his other hand kept raking at his torso, teasing his nipples in a way that Enjolras loved.

Truth was, he knew perfectly he could easily stay forever like that, at ease, pleasuring his lover over and over again, neglecting his own need.

But Enjolras had other plans in mind. He wanted more. He needed release. “Just take me” He finally blurt out, as he spread his legs apart. 

“As you wish ,Apollo”

Grantaire then flipped him effortlessly, facing the blond, but not without splashing some water out of the tub. It hit the wooden floor in a clear splash, but Enjolras couldn't bring himself to mind.

“Sweet Apollo...”

His arm went underwater, between his thighs, as his fingers trace the sensible rim with his fingers. Enjolras's breath hitched, as they started going up and down, up and down inside of him;

They started scissoring, easing the tense muscles that keeps clenching. And Enjolras trembled, trying to thrust his hips against the slick digits. 

“Please” he panted out, close to the edge.

He was frustrated and wrecked.

Complying, Grantaire withdrew his fingers to replace with his cock. The blond bent his spine backwards as Grantaire thrust into him in 1 stroke, the entry made easy by the water.

Then the drunk started fucking him, slowly and lazily. And the revolutionary slammed back, meeting him every time.

Enjolras was even more handsome than usual, his eyes shut tight, his cheeks flushed, ridding Grantaire's cock in a steady movement. The light coming from outside was flashing his face, highlighting the delicateness of his cheekbones and freckles, the perfect lines of his chest... And his gorgeous lips were apart, letting out sweet, sweet sounds, looking deliciously red and sinful.

“Oh God, Grantaire!” He let's out and the brown haired man smirked. He definitely didn't wanted to stop. He kept thrusting upwards, his hands on his hips to allow himself from sinking deeper.

The sounds coming out of that mouth... It was used to deliver arguments, speeches and critics against the government... It was now spilling shouts and grunts and cries that were just downwards obscene. Enjolras had always been an orator, and he stuck to it. He was loud.

And Grantaire had to bit his lips, hard, to contain himself from ravishing the leader. And he kept coming up, along with the waves of the water, gripping at his hips in a bruising manner. 

He'll have marks tomorrow, marks that he won't be able to look away from, that he will worship and revere. 

He suddenly changed his angle, hitting directly in his prostate and the lithe blond cried out loudly, to the point of breaking his vocal cords. In return, he started whispering little things in his ear , voice low and broken and the blond shouted out even more forcefully.

“Grantaire... I'm...”

They came almost together, the clenching of Enjolras's muscles sending Grantaire into oblivion. The blond's see meddled with water, now more white than transparent, and the cynic spurted his release into his lover, groaning out in a almost savage manner.

They both sank further into the bathtub, as Grantaire pulled of him swiftly. The blond hissed and frowned in discomfort. He will probably found it hard to walk straight tomorrow. The cynic kissed his cheek in an attempt to comfort him, but the revolutionary just smiled tiredly.

“It's okay. It's just... That was intense.”

And Grantaire chuckled.

The both of them felt blissed out. Enjolras lazily let all of his weight rest on Grantaire's, feeling too drained to move. And Grantaire was like him, his eyes shut to enjoy the moment. He looked peaceful, as his fingertips drawn imaginary figures on the skin of the blond's forearm that was resting on the marble edge.

He briefly wondered why he had reticence when Grantaire had suggested the idea. Surely he was mad. 

“I think the coal burned out” the drunk said.

Enjolras made a none-committal sound for an answer.

The cynic brought him closer in his arms, dropping a kiss at Enjolras's temple, as the he snuggled closer to him.

Today, no revolution and no plotting. Just the 2 of them.


End file.
